


The Stars Above

by silkencrow



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-15 05:30:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16927371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkencrow/pseuds/silkencrow
Summary: Abigail Tyler has never fit in. At least, that’s how she’s always felt. In a family full of people with big personalities, her introverted tendencies labeled her as “odd” from a younge age. She knows that her sister and mom love her, but there’s always just been something missing. Something out of her reach, a dream she was always reaching for, but could never touch.Until now.





	1. Peculiar Plastic

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, Whovians. I come in peace...as a fetus fanfiction writer...so have mercy, if you please.   
> This will be a multi-chapter, although I’m uncertain of how many chapters it will end up being. I hope you guys like Abby, I know I do, although I admit I’m just a tintsy bit biased...  
> Anyways, I love feedback so don’t hold back. Enjoy, my friends.

I had a lot of wishes. 

I wished that my family had just a little more money, so that Rose could go to college.

I wished that my mom could finally find someone who really made her happy.

I wished I could’ve done more than trade school. 

I wished that the stars would reach down and take me away.

But wishes were just that. Unanswered dreams. 

“Abigail!”

I startled out of my internal monologue so hard that my hand collided with the pencil cup on the counter, causing pens to scatter all over. David was staring at me with a barely suppressed smile, clearly having been calling my name more than once. The pens are quickly collected, and the pencil cup righted by David. He was nice, nicer than I deserved, honestly. He didn’t judge me for my “space-out” moments, nor did he get annoyed when I ignored him. Ignored wasn’t really the right word, though. I just tended to lose interest relatively quickly… 

“Sorry, David. What did you say?” The crackle in my voice evident, probably from underuse. My job, as a librarian, gave me hours of quiet in the library, so it wasn’t uncommon for me to go a whole shift without talking. 

Not that that was something I minded, in fact I preferred it. No one in my family knows where my introverted nature came from, seeing as my mother is rather…opinionated, and Rose could make friends with a fish. Our dad, according to mom, was outgoing as well. A businessman through and through. 

So, as it happens, I became the “odd” one of the family and thus was given extra attention. 

All I wanted, at a near 80% of the time, was some peace and quiet.

Another one of my wishes.

“—is totally off her rocker, but Jeff’s billing skills are rubbish, so it has to be her. Who would have thought finances would be a big part of running a public library,” David chuckles and glances at me. My expression must have said a lot, because he coughed awkwardly before continuing. “Anyways, your shifts been over for about 30 minutes. And Jessica didn’t want to...uh-disturb you, so she asked me to let you know she’s here. She’s just brewing a cuppa.”

Ah yes. Jessica didn’t want to “disturb” me. How nice of her. 

The urge to roll my eyes almost surpasses my desire to remain unaffected. In the end, I don’t want David to think anything’s wrong, so my eyes remain properly stationary.

“Thanks, David,” I mumble, reaching under the counter to snatch my satchel, “See you tomorrow then.”

He smiles, once again being too nice to me, before wishing me a good night, heading back to his office.

30 minutes. Rose’s shift at the shop should be over in about 20, and it’ll take me 5 to walk over there. Maybe we can go for chips on the way home.

My feet swiftly shift to the direction of Rose’s work and I text her to let her know. As expected, she responds enthusiastically, spouting something about “man-hunting” while we’re out. I choose to ignore that, simply because she already knows my response.

I’m just not interested in spending my time searching for Mr. Right. That’s not to say that I don’t want to find love, it just means that I believe there’s someone out there for me and I don’t need to rush them. They’ll find me or I’ll find them when we’re meant to, and we’ll go from there.

The streets are bustling with people, and I consider just heading home, but Henrik’s comes into view soon enough. The massive store looms above me like an annoying crow. I want to cringe on behalf of my sister. She absolutely hates her job, but she doesn’t want to do A-Levels, or go to trade school like I did, so there aren’t many places she can work with only a high school diploma.

“Hey, Tony,” I greet the door guard on my way in. He smiles, but suddenly jerks like he remembered something.

“Oh hey! Can you take this and tell Rose to give it to Wilson before she leaves? She should be coming out of the staff lobby right about now,” he asks hurriedly, reaching into his pocket to pull out a bag full of money. 

“Sure. Have a good night,” my lips tip up in what I hope is a friendly smile. It’s not much, probably, but I have to try anyways.

Rose is as Tony said, coming out of the staff lounge with Kristi and Laura. They’re having a rather intense conversation from the looks of it. Probably gossiping.

“Hey, Rose.” She immediately parts from her co-workers with a smile. 

“Hey! What’s that?” She points to the bag in my hands and I toss it to her. She catches it easily, but lets loose a groan.

“It’s for Wilson, apparently,” I relay.

She nods with a roll of her eyes. Common occurrence I guess.

“Yeah, Wilson’s in the basement,” she leads me to the lift as she explains, “and it's so creepy down there. I’ve told Tony a million times to stop taking the piss and just do it himself.”

Her ranting makes me smile, but I don’t comment past an agreeable hum. One of the best things about my sister is that she’s used to my silence and small responses, and could read them as well. 

She’s right about the basement though. As soon as we stepped off the lift, I felt it. It was like we weren’t supposed to be there. The yellow of the lights seemed more ominous, casting spindly shadows along the grey cement walls. 

“Rose,” I mumble, but she shouts as soon as I start, calling out Wilson’s name. I follow her as she walks purposefully towards a door with his name on it. She calls his name again before opening the door slowly, unfortunately finding the small room sans Wilson. My paranoia increases.

“Rose, just leave it in his office,” I mumble, but once again she doesn’t hear me. Or she’s ignoring me. Either is a possibility. Where I’m curious for information mentally, Rose tends to be curious physically. I’d take an in-depth explanation over investigation any day.

Despite the foreboding feeling trying to crawl its way up my spine, I follow her as strides over to some doors. We pass through them into what looks like a storage area. I freeze a foot into the room.

There’s mannequins everywhere. 

My heart stutters, and then nearly beats out of my chest when a bang sounds from behind us. My head whips around and I’m to the doors before I knew I wanted to move, my hands already grasping for the handles.

They’re locked. Won’t budge. 

I hear Rose going on about someone named Derek needing to stop mucking about. She’s walking deeper into the room, unaware of my silent turmoil. 

We’re locked in a room. In a basement. With mannequins. 

I try once again in vain to jiggle the doors open. Shakily, I shove away from them.

“Alright! I’ve had about enough of this now,” Rose yells. I turn to her, but she’s already looking at me. My feet once again move preemptively. 

“Rose, the doors—“ I cut myself off at the expression on her face. She’s looking at something over my shoulder, confusion and fear prominent in her features. I gulp, turning my head slowly to face whatever’s behind me. Please don’t be an axe murderer. Please don’t be an axe murderer.

My eyes rest on a mannequin. Standing in the middle of the room. In a spot that was previously empty. I suck in a sharp breath.

It moves.

“What?” My horrified whisper sounds like a gunshot in the quiet of the room. Confusion laced in the undertones. How? Is it a costume? If this is a prank (Derek?) then I don’t find it amusing. Pranks don’t play out this long anyways...by now the person should be taking off the costume saying “ha got you!”. I don’t notice Rose and I slowly backing away from it until the feeling of cold cement hits my back. At least six more mannequins had started to move and now they were choppily advancing on us. 

“Stop this! I said stop this now, it's not funny anymore!” Rose yells at them from my right. The mannequin closest to us doesn’t stop, instead raising its arm in a threatening movement. But it's just plastic, even if they hit us, it can’t possibly hurt that much right?

My thoughts freeze. When did I start considering them to be sentient plastic, rather than the more plausible explanation of dressed up humans, like Rose obviously still thought?

Maybe I’ve finally lost it.

A loud yelp escapes me when a large hand suddenly grips my left one. I grab Rose’s instinctively and whip around to the side to face the stranger. I’m able to register blue eyes before things get chaotic.

“Run.”

The stranger yanks me after him, causing me to yank Rose, and we’re off. Weaving through boxes and crates to an exit Rose and I must have missed. We pass through the doors and into a hallway. I stumble. The stranger grips my hand tighter, pulling me enough that I regain balance. I can hear the sounds of quick footsteps behind us, so I turn my head and instantly regret looking.

A horde of mannequins stampedes after us. 

We reach the lift just as the mannequins start to seriously gain on us, and before the doors can completely close one of them shoves their arm through to stop the lift. The stranger lets go of my hand to wrestle with it. The loss of contact makes the little sense of calm it gave me dissipate. Before I can properly analyze why the hell that was my reaction, I’m distracted when he literally pops the mannequin’s arm off.

Well. Looks like my sentient plastic theory was right. Yay.

“You pulled his arm off!” Rose shouts at the man in disbelief. He tosses her the arm and she catches it clumsily. 

“Yup, plastic,” the man says like it explains everything. He glances at me briefly before Rose starts up again, making him shift his focus.

“Very clever, nice trick. So, what, are they students or something?”

“No,” I mumble distractedly, gently taking the arm out of Rose’s hands. I can feel them both looking at me, but my mind has already moved on. The confusion and curiosity coursing through me only grows when I inspect the arm. It’s just plastic. There’s no gears or anything visible in the socket, and the weight is consistent with silicon...

How can it just be plastic? How can it be sentient? Is it really alive?

“Who’s Wilson?”

I tune back in at the sound of the lift doors opening, and look at the man. He was doing something to the control panel with a metal instrument the length of my hand. The blue tip glowed and made a strange noise, causing sparks to burst from the panel. Shorting it out? What was that?

“Chief electrician,” Rose answers his question while covering her eyes slightly. The man pauses for barely half a second before walking forward.

“Wilson’s dead.”

“That’s not funny! That’s sick, and I’ve absolutely had enough. What’s going on?” She yells, and I can tell she’s about to go full Jackie on this stranger. I’d never met Wilson, but my heart aches for him. The best way to honor his death though, is to make sure no one else falls victim to the same fate.

“Who are they?” I ask the man lowly, coming to walk next to him. He looks down at me as he answers.

“Living plastic. They’re being controlled by a relay device on the roof,” he answers me. Before he can continue I lift up the arm and shake it for emphasis on my next words.

“There are no gears, or anything metal for that matter, on the arm. So, even if they were being controlled it can’t be electronically. Also, the movements were too fluid. You said “living” which would make sense, actually, because of what I just said, but it's...there’s just...I mean how—“

“Abby, stop,” Rose warns. I snap my mouth shut and shrink back, not even realizing that I’d started to raise my voice in excitement. My face burns with shame. A man died and I’m getting excited about the thing that killed him.

I can feel the man’s eyes on me, but refuse to look up, choosing instead to fiddle more with the arm. 

“The relay would be a great big problem, if I didn’t have this!” The man continues, ignoring my rant, and pulling out what I can only assume is a bomb from his jacket pocket. “So I’m gonna go upstairs, and blow it up. Now, I might well die in the process, but don’t you girls worry about that.”

My eyes widen, and I catch his as he opens the alley door, shaking my head in a gesture I hope says don’t do it. He just smiles and winks at me, gesturing for us to go on out.

“Now go on home and have your lovely beans on toast. And don’t tell anybody about what you saw, cause if you do, you’ll get them killed.”

And with that he shuts the door.

I turn to Rose. Still cradling the arm. Confusion almost literally pouring off of me. She looks just as stumped as I am, if not even more. I open my mouth, to say what I don’t know, but before I can the door behind me reopens. I whip back around.

“I’m the Doctor, by the way. What’re your names?”

“Rose,” she answers immediately, glancing at me when I hesitate.

“Abigail,” I mumble, and the Doctor smiles.

“Nice to meet you. Now, run for your lives!” He exclaims jovially, once again closing the door with a resounding bang. I waste no time hoofing it away, having to run back to Rose, who’s too confused to even move at first. We make it a block away before Henrik’s explodes. Rose and I exchange disbelieving and worried looks, before basically sprinting the last five blocks home.

Mom’s already heard about it when we finally walk through the front door. She tackles us in a hug before going off about compensation. I slip past her and Rose, heading straight to the living room. The TV is already on a news channel, giving coverage on the fire. 

“Fire crew are still working to suppress the fire, but they say there’s no saving the structure…”

Rose plops down on the couch next to me, taking the arm from my grasp and tossing it onto the recliner.

“Where’s mom?” I whisper. Rose takes my hand, giving it a squeeze, before letting go and waving her hand in the direction of the kitchen.

“On the phone, gossiping,” she says irritably. I sigh. The front door opens, and Mickey Smith comes rushing into the room. I sigh once more.

“I’ve been phoning you! You could’ve been dead!” He exclaims immediately. I get up and move to the love seat, giving the couple some room.

“I saw it on the tele, I can’t believe that your shop went up,” he continues, sitting down next to Rose and tackling her in a hug. 

“I’m alright, honestly. Don’t make a fuss,” she cringes. He settles back, glancing at me and giving a nod of greeting. I do the same.

“What was it though, what happened?” He turns his attention back to Rose. 

She shakes her head, “I don’t know. I wasn’t in the shop. I was outside, didn’t see anything.”

“Abby! I’ve got Debbie on the line, and she knows an interviewer from The Mirror who would pay you 500 quid to go on,” Mom hustles into the living room, clutching the phone to her chest.

“Mom, I don’t work there. The company would probably say I was trespassing, and defeat any chance of settlement,” I chuckle a little at Mickey’s gasp of surprise.

“You were there too?!”

Rose rolls her eyes at him, but addresses Mom instead. “Really? That’s brilliant, give it here.” She holds her hand out for the phone and Mom eagerly plops it into her hand. Rose immediately hangs up. I laugh, Mom frowns angrily.

“Well, you’ve got to find some way of making money! And unless you want to go get your librarian certificate, you haven’t got many options!” The phone rings before she can continue her rant, and she answers it as she heads back into the kitchen. Rose releases a heavy breath, and I feel her tiredness in myself. 

“I have work tomorrow, so I’m heading off to bed,” my body sluggishly lifts itself from the love seat, “Goodnight.”

They wish me a good night, and I reach my head into the kitchen to say goodnight to mom. She tells whoever she’s on with to hold just a minute before stepping over to me with a small smile.

“Sweetheart, I’m glad you’re okay,” she clutches me in a tight hug, “Sleep well. And maybe take tomorrow off, yeah?”

“Maybe,” I concede, “See you in the morning.”

My pajamas are on in record time and once I’ve snuggles into the sheets, my eyes drift shut. My thoughts drift to the color blue and I faintly hear a word before sleep claims me completely.

Run


	2. Chapter 2

"Mornin, Abby. I thought you had work?"  
Rose sits down across from me at the kitchen table, picking up an apple from the basket in the middle. I still find it funny that mom buys apples, even though no one eats them. The fact that Rose picked one up at all clues me into just how much she's still thinking about last night. I don't blame her. I got about five hours of sleep before I woke up in a cold sweat, having dreamt about plastic monsters trying to eat me. Then, once I was awake, all I could think about was that man. Who was he? How did he know about the plastic? He obviously wasn't police, although he did have a military-like confidence about him. Out of all the unanswered questions that raced through my mind, there was one that haunted me the most.  
Did he make it out?  
"Abby~," Rose intones with a laugh. My cheeks redden.  
"Morning, sis. I did, but decided to call in sick. I'm still...a little shaken up...about last night."  
"Yeah, me too," she sighs, "plus I've got no job now."  
Rose doesn't look that upset about it. In fact, despite what happened, there's something new in her eyes. A shine...a fire in the depths, drawn forth by curiosity and the sense of more.   
My own soul burns in tandem. A wish has come closer than ever before. One question balances on the precipice.  
Will I have the courage to take hold of it?  
"What about Finch's," Mom comments from the kitchen. She joins us at the table with an imploring look Rose's way. Rose rolls her eyes. "Yeah, great. The butcher's."  
"Well it's not like you have many options," she scolds, "And I'm not joking about compensation! You've had genuine shock and trauma."  
The corner of Rose's eye twitches, and I have to hold back a smirk at her expense. After a few more comments from mom, I decide to take pity on my sister.  
"Hey, Mom," I interject with innocence, "aren't you meeting with Debbie in an hour?"  
"Oh! Is it 9 already?" She exclaims, jumping up from the table and rushing to her room. Rose chuckles, sending me a small smile.  
"Thanks, Abs."  
"Yup," I chuckle, "She's just trying to help, you know."  
"Yeah, yeah," she waves her hand in abject agreement. We sit in contemplative silence for awhile before she brightens all of a sudden, smacking her hand on the table. I raise an eyebrow in silent question at her antics.  
"Let's corroborate what happened last night! I think it'd be a good idea to write everything down, just in case we, I don't know, end up going to the police maybe…"  
I was nodding before she even finished. That did seem like a good idea, yes. That way we could also expand on what we saw, maybe try to make sense of it all.  
"Okay. I'll go get a notebook and pen from our room." I agree, pushing away from the table. The apartment only has two bedrooms, so Rose and I share a room. We've always gotten along, so the cramped four walls never really posed much of a problem. The room split almost evenly in half by our different color preferences. Her side overflowed with shades of pink, cluttered with knick knacks of all kinds. My side looked significantly more tame with plum purple and grey tones. I've been told on many occasions that my side of the room reflects my personality. Once, I asked Mickey what personality that was exactly.  
His respond had been to laugh, and then proceed to say, "Nothing bad, just that you're rather...normal?"  
Before that wonderful conversation, never in my life had I thought the word normal could be so insulting to hear. Oh well.  
Rose had always been the more chaotically beautiful one, anyways.  
My favorite pen wasn't in the place I usually left it, which probably means its within the depths of Rose's territory. Before I can dutifully begin my search, I hear a noise. It's coming from the front door, sounding almost like scratching at the cat-flap.  
"Mom!" I shout from my crouched position next to Rose's bed, "You closed the cat-flap when Rose told you to a couple of weeks ago, right?"  
"Yeah, nailed it shut." She sounds confused by my asking, so she's obviously telling the truth. I hum in puzzlement, giving up on my search in lieu of a new mystery. The front door itself looks in tack, so I turn my attention to the cat-flap. There're screws lying on the floor below it. My curiosity turns into slight fear when the flap jerks open randomly, like something pushed on it. I gulp, but bend down and reach my hand out anyways. It shakes as I push up the flap, bending my body even more to properly see through the small opening. What I see on the other side shocks me, while at the same time I feel like a weight is lifted off my shoulders.  
It was the Doctor.  
Quickly dropping the flap, I jump up and pull the door open as fast as humanly possible. Leather, blue eyes, and big ears greet me on the other side.  
The Doctor's brow furrows in consternation.  
"What are you doing here?" He asks, a suspicious edge to his voice. I take no notice to it.  
My hand reaches out towards him as I answer unthinkingly, "I live here." He scoffs.  
"Well what'd you do that for?" My finger sinks into the leather at his shoulder, and he raises his eyebrows. The blue of his eyes is shocking. Everything about him seems so intangible. I just want to make sure he's real. That I'm not crazy.  
"Cause I do," I mumble, poking him again. The leather of his jacket is stiff, like its the first time he's worn it. "What are you doing here?"  
"Must have got the wrong signal," he says, completely ignoring my repetitive poking, "You're not plastic are you?" He reaches up and knocks on my head like he's knocking on a door. I jerk back, more at his words than really at his actions. Was that a possibility? Can they turn humans into plastic?  
"Nope. Bone head. Bye then!"  
"Wait!" My hand grasps his before I even think about it, halting his exit. I can't let him leave when I still don't know anything!  
Once again he raises his eyebrows at me, and I feel my face heat up, but I don't drop his hand. It's warm, warmer than a hand should be. I once again find a weird sense of comfort from touching him. It's concerning...but hardly a priority at the moment. I need him to stay, explain things. Even if I can't make him explain everything. There's one question that takes precedence over my curiosity.  
"I-I don't know what happened yesterday, and I get the feeling that I probably won't completely understand, but at least tell me this," I take a deep breath, looking into his eyes to gauge his honesty.  
"Are people still in danger?"  
Immediately, his eyes brighten. Not in excitement, no, but rather in recognition of something. Something I can't see or don't know about. He opens his mouth, but the answer never leaves it, because Rose finally notices us.  
"Oi!" She practically shoves me out of the way and grabs the Doctor by the shoulder, roughly tugging him into the apartment. "You. Inside, now!"  
He stumbles after her, a look of indignation flashing across his feature. I cover my mouth to stop from giggling. His eyes snap to me and narrow, like he knows I'm internally laughing at his expense. My eyebrows raise in silent challenge.  
"Who's at the door?" Mom yells from her room. I give Rose a look that says You deal with her this time, before walking into the living room and sitting down.  
If people are still in danger, if my family is in danger...I have to help him. Logically, it doesn't make sense that I even could, since I know absolutely nothing about the situation. But the thought of just standing by and letting whatever's happening continue...my stomach turns just considering it. There's so much I'm confused about though. How are we in danger from plastic? Obviously, it's a real threat, or the Doctor wouldn't have gone and blown up a building to stop it. If they, whoever they are, can turn humans into plastic, then the threat becomes rather obvious. Although, how did the plastic become sentient? Become evil? Is it even evil? Or is there a semi legitimate reason behind it all? If you think about it though, using something as inconspicuous as plastic to take over the world is positively genius.  
I chuckle at my own speculation. I should be more worried, probably, but I just can't find it in me to be freaked out while the Doctor is here. I know he'll figure it out.  
My thoughts stutter.  
Why am I automatically trusting him? I've no idea who he is. It's the same as when he held my hand at Henrik's. Almost like, as long as he did so, as long as he was near, everything would turn out alright.  
"Abigail. Kind of an old-fashioned name, don't you think?"  
My focus sharpens into the present, eyes quickly meeting the Doctor's. He's smiling, like there's a joke I missed and he's waiting for the moment it occurs to me.  
"Old fashioned...I feel like I've somehow traveled to the future with everything that's happened," I mumble distractedly. "And everyone else thinks so too, that's why they call me Abby." His smile widens.  
"To answer your question," he speaks up, fiddling with a deck of cards I didn't notice were in his hands, "the problem is not resolved. People are still in danger."  
I stand up unconsciously as my mind spins with theories, "Doesn't that mean the source wasn't at the shop? And you said relay, so that must mean that it was planted to extend a signal. And who is controlling it? I have a feeling you know, but..." I trail off when the same scuttling sound from before reaches my ear. The Doctor mustn't have heard it, because he continues to stare at me with a weird look. Pride? Happiness? Sadness?  
The scuttling happens again, this time louder, catching the Doctor's attention.  
"What's that then? Have you got a cat?"  
I shake my head no, turning around as the noise sounds once again from behind the couch. The Doctor joins me, and we lean forward to see. It happens before either of us can react.  
Something flies up, latching onto my throat, causing me to stumble back with a strangled cry. In the back of my mind I think it's the bloody plastic arm.  
The Doctor immediately starts trying to pry the arm off of me, instead causing it's grip to tighten, cutting off my circulation. Rose chooses this moment to finally join us. She barely even glances at our struggle before rolling her eyes.  
"You boys are all the same, give em a plastic arm...But why the hell are you feeding into it Abby? That's not like you," she sighs, setting the coffees on the table, "I thought I told Mickey to throw that thing away last night…Anyways, I really think we should go to the police."  
The room starts to blur, a small gasp escaping my mouth in a feeble attempt to suck in air. My lungs stutter. A sudden thought passes through the fog of pain.  
Please don't let me die by mannequin arm!  
As though in answer to my silent prayer, the Doctor finally wrenches it off. My body crashes to the floor with a thud, and I greedily gulp in air. The Doctor loses his grip and the arm swings around mid fall.  
Rose has half a second to be completely stunned, before the arm rushes her and palms her face aggressively.  
"Rose!" I croak. My throat aches, I can already feel bruises forming, but I don't stop. I tackle Rose, sitting on her stomach and leveraging my foot on the ground. The Doctor grabs my shoulders and together we pull. With a pop the arm comes off. The Doctor quickly snatches it from my hands and shoves his blue device into its palm, making it freeze up.  
Then the Doctor is pulling me up, tossing the hand down to a flabbergasted Rose as she sits up, and sitting me down onto the couch. He kneels in front of me.  
"It's alright, I've stopped it," he says. I go to thank him, but stop when he shakes his head. The hands on my forearms move to cup my head, and he gently tilts it back.  
"Oh, my god," Rose breathes when she joins the Doctor, inspecting my neck as well. "I'm so sorry, Abs. I just—I mean—"  
"She'll be fine," the Doctor interrupts with a slight edge. Rose switches gears at the tone of his voice, instead glaring at him and whacking him with the now immobile arm.  
"Ow!"  
"Don't ow me mister! You've got so much explaining to do!" He looks at me, the apology clear in his eye, but his only response is to pat my cheek twice before standing up. My eyes widen as he makes his exit, without saying a word. Rose jumps into action instantly.  
"Hold on a minute! You just can't go swanning off!"  
She dashes out the front door after him, but I can't find the motivation to run right now. Plus, Rose is in full-on Jackie mode, so I know she'll interrogate the Doctor persistently and properly. To pass the time I start that list of everything that happened yesterday, as well as force myself to drink some chamomile. It hurts to swallow, but I know it'll help in the long run. The list takes an hour, mostly because I add a theory to everything I write down. Still no word from Rose, but my thoughts are easily occupied. I fall into my head space.  
Rose calls an hour later, the blaring tone of my cellphone jolting me back to reality.  
"I met with this Clive chap," she starts without even a hello, "And he says that the Doctor has been around forever! He had pictures and everything, but I'll explain more about that later, I don't really want to get into it now. Mickey and I are heading over to St. Claire's to have a bit of pizza. We'll meet you there!" She hangs up. I'd be a little offended if I wasn't so curious, and if I didn't know my sister so well.  
St. Claire's is only a ten minute walk from the estate, so it doesn't take long to get there. They've already got themselves a table when I walk in. As I approach them, my eyes snap to Mickey first.  
What the hell? Why is he smiling like that? His face looks so stiff…  
"Just tell me about the Doctor," Mickey finishes saying, a weird consistency to his voice. Like he's talking through a receiver.  
"Mickey, I told you I don't want to talk about him right now," Rose turns to me with a smile, "Hey, Abs, how's the throat?"  
"It's fine…" I sneak another glance at Mickey as I sit. He's glaring at me subtly. Something in his eyes make me shiver. Those aren't Mickey's eyes.  
"What's wrong with him?" I whisper at Rose, inclining my head in his direction. She gives me a confused look. Mickey distracts her again by asking about the Doctor. At the edge of my consciousness, there's an answer. Something the Doctor said...about the plastic…  
"Oh my god," realization washes over me, "Rose, that not Mick-"  
"Is anyone going to take this champagne?"  
"For the last time, we didn't order any-" Mickey stops when he sees who's standing there, "Ah, there you are."  
By the time my brain catches up to my body, I'm standing next to the Doctor, my hand clutching his forearm.  
"Doctor, I don't think that's Mickey," I mumble quickly. He smiles without turning towards me.  
"Don't mind me!" he begins shaking the bottle, "Just toasting the happy couple!" The cork shoots out hitting Mickey in the forehead, but instead of bouncing off, it sinks into his head.  
Then he spits it out his mouth.  
I blanch. Mickey smirks.  
"Right then."  
Chaos ensues, as seems to be the theme with this blue eyed man. Mickey's hand morphs into a rectangle, and he starts to smash everything in his path. Patrons in the restaurant are screaming, the Doctor is attacking Mickey, putting him in a headlock, and I haven't moved an inch.  
My frozen state changes when the Doctor pulls Mickey's head off.  
"Don't think that'll stop me." the head snarls. The body swings around to Rose and I, taking an aggressive step towards us.  
My body thaws instantly.  
Two strides get me to the fire alarm, and I pull it, yelling randomly for everyone to get out.  
"Rose!" She must know I meant for her to follow me, because she does without further prompting. I race to the back exit, hoping that the body will follow us this way, and not the crowd of customers that rushed out the front. We burst out into the alley, and my eyes frantically search for an exit. There's only one, a gate, but I can see the padlock from here. My heart sinks.  
Then an idea strikes. The gate is too tall for one person to climb over on their own, but there's two of us!  
"Rose, come on!" I snatch her hand and run to the gate. "I'm going to boost you up."  
"What?!" She rips her hand out of mine, "Are you kidding me? I'm not leaving you!"  
"Rose," I say quickly, "You can go get help. You're faster than me and if anyone was going to be able to convince the police that we need help, it'd definitely be you." My voice sounds calm, reasonable. On the inside, my heart beats out of control. I'm scared for myself, but I'm more scared for Rose. If anything happened to her, I'd never be able to face mom again.  
"Rose," I plead. She ignores me, looking at something over my shoulder.  
"Doctor! Open the gate with your tube thingy!" She yells frantically. I spin, having forgotten about the Doctor in my panic to get Rose away from danger. He's standing next to a blue Public Call Box that I also hadn't noticed in my panic, staring at us.  
Our eyes connect, and once again I find myself lost in the blue. Confused by the look in them as he watches me. It's ancient, deep. It's familiar.  
I don't realize I'm holding my breath until his expression breaks swiftly into a smile, dispelling the tense feeling within me, and I take a shaky inhale.  
"Let's go in here, then," he says jovially, gesturing with Mickey's severed head to follow him. I do without hesitation, although I remain skeptical. I hear Rose yelling angrily behind me, but I continue, knowing she'll follow eventually.  
Warmth bleeds into me from the box. I want to be scared, but I can't. The door was left open, and I can see inside. It's bigger. And although I know the emotion I should be feeling is overwhelmed, relief swirls through me instead.  
This is proof. Not everything is as it seems. One of my wishes, one I didn't even know I had.  
Come inside.  
And the wish falls gently into my waiting hands.


End file.
